


All that I have is a home

by Elisexyz



Series: We could build a house [6]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Every day, Thomas wakes up before sunrise.





	All that I have is a home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this Tumblr prompt](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/188026918549/prompt-thomas-watching-james-sleep-bonus-for), asking for Thomas watching James sleep, with bonus cuddles. Basically it's teeth-rotting fluff.  
  
Technically part of a collection, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Title from: [_"All that I have is a home/And all you can do is promise me bold/That you won't let me grow dark or cold/As long as we both shall live"_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkbRhC9bSng).

Every day, Thomas wakes up before sunrise.

Those are the rhythms that he grew accustomed to in ten years of labor, and it seems that the habit will be harder to shake off than he would have hoped.

James, on the other hand, sleeps soundly until late morning whenever he can, overly fond of their big, comfortable bed, and sometimes having to compensate for the first portion of the night, plagued by nightmares – though those are happening with less frequency as time goes by, thank god.

Thomas’ first instinct is usually to move to get up, all too aware that there are tasks that he could complete around the house, that time spent dwelling on the comfort of his bed is time wasted. It usually takes a few moments for him to remember – and then revel in the thought with quite a bit of satisfaction – that he is a free man and he will waste as much time as he likes.

Actually, it is not even a _waste_ to begin with: he and James have spent more than a decade apart, any moment that Thomas devotes to remedy that is a moment well spent, even when he is the only one awake to appreciate the fact that they are together.

(Unfortunately, there is still a feeling of uneasiness creeping under his skin for a little too long, urging him to move, but Thomas is quickly learning how to ignore it.)

Early mornings are cold during winter, but Thomas doesn’t mind lying on his side, one elbow holding him up, the sheets slipping down and leaving him exposed enough that he shivers: the low temperatures remind him of London, guiding his thoughts away from Savannah, and for all the grief that his birthland brought to him, this past decade he has been spending too much time holding with both hands onto the happy memories to be bothered by it.

It also helps that the sight before him is incredibly similar to the echoes of some of those memories.

James might have changed, and a lot, more than just in physical appearance, some days it is all too clear, but during winter he still sleeps curled up on himself, pressed against Thomas in an attempt at finding some more warmth.

He never could stand the cold much: Thomas remembers putting some extra blankets in his own room, forever ago, so James wouldn’t wake up shivering.

James mutters something unintelligible, attempting to hog more of the sheets and soon realizing that it isn’t working all too well. Probably because the position that Thomas is in lets some chilly air under the covers.

James rolls over, turning in his direction and cracking half an eye open for a moment, even though he is clearly still half-way asleep. He mutters something, among which the only words understandable are ‘Thomas’ and ‘cold’, before shifting close enough to press his forehead against Thomas’ chest as he curls up on himself some more.

“Alright, then,” Thomas whispers, amused. “I suppose I’ll have to get back down there.”

He nudges James into giving him a little bit of space to properly lie down, then he proceeds to sliding one arm under his neck and tucking the sheets as best as he can after he has successfully been turned into a human pillow. His efforts are rewarded by James nuzzling against his chest and humming contently.

Thomas smiles, laying a kiss on his head as his chest explodes with affection. It is a wonder, he muses, that the same man could manage to be _this_ adorable but also become the terror of the British empire.

(To say that he isn’t horribly proud of being able to call him _his_ would be an egregious lie.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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